


Rest your heart in my hands

by saphira_black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Moulin Rouge! (2001)
Genre: AU with Magic, Alternate Universe - Moulin Rouge! Fusion, Bohemian Harry, Dancer Draco, Draco Malfoy Speaks French, Draco Malfoy in Denial, Draco in fishnet tights and corset, Drarry, Dreamer Harry, French Draco Malfoy, I'm Bad At Tagging, Love at First Sight, Lust at First Sight, M/M, but not really, h/d - Freeform, implied sexual work, it's more a promise, seductive draco, they sort of bet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-02-26 18:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18722239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphira_black/pseuds/saphira_black
Summary: His heart skipped a beat. A slender figure stepped through the curtains. The music changed and the whole crowd started to roar. “A man?” It was not more than a faint whisper, but the twins heard him, nevertheless.“You didn’t know? His name’s Draco Malfoy,” answered Fred.





	Rest your heart in my hands

**Author's Note:**

> A big THANK YOU to the mods! I am so happy to be part of this amazing fest! ♥  
> This already leads me to my lovely Alpha Reader, A. Thanks to your constant squealing and positive vibes, I could pull through my negativity. ♥ Thank you so much!  
> My lovely Beta, T... Thank goodness that you volunteered to help me with this! I am really lucky that you helped me polish this!♥  
> Last, but not least, big thanks to S, and especially B! They helped me with the French bits! I just couldn't resist... Parisian Draco should speak at least a little bit French (:

_One song. One dance. It had taken him only one performance to fall for Draco. Suddenly life had been wonderful and full of colours. The hope of a bright future bloomed like the tulips his aunt had always planted in spring. Years later he could still vividly remember the first time his eyes had laid on Draco._

_His uncle had warned him, told him he would turn into a useless ponce if he were to follow his dreams. Harry had decided to follow the call of his heart. It hasn’t been the first time he did something that his uncle despised, so he’d taken the first train to Paris, leaving London behind with the hope to be part of the Bohemian revolution, to change something in the world. He had been hungry for the thrill of being alive. Nothing could have prepared him for the adventure he found himself sucked into._

 

It was Harry’s first time visiting the Moulin Rouge. He was wearing a black suit that one of his housemates had lent him. He had quickly found friends in his new home. They were a bunch of like-minded artists, supporters of the Bohemian revolution. Thanks to them, he found himself in the Moulin Rouge with the goal to persuade the star of the cabaret to support their play.

The aroma of the club was a mixture of sweat, strong perfume, and alcohol. It was loud and packed with a hoard of men. The voice of his uncle still ringing in his ears, Harry wasn’t truly able to enjoy the dazzling atmosphere. Until the voice of Albus Dumble, owner of the Moulin Rouge, echoed through the room, announcing the arrival of Moulin Rouge’s star.

His heart skipped a beat. A slender figure stepped through the curtains. The music changed and the whole crowd started to roar. “A man?” It was not more than a faint whisper, but the twins heard him, nevertheless.

“You didn’t know? His name’s Draco Malfoy,” answered Fred.

“They say he has magic in his blood,” George jumped in.

“Maybe a bit Veela?” suggested Fred.

“Talent for sure. Watch him closely, Harry! That’s the star you have to persuade!” George chuckled.

But Harry wasn’t listening anymore. Mesmerized by the beauty of the man in the spotlight, he just stared. Long delicate legs in black fishnet tights, scandalously short black silk knickers, and a black overbust corset studded with diamonds. Strands of platinum blond hair were falling into the eyes of the dancer.

And then, he opened his mouth and began to sing. A voice, soothing like a cold shower of rain after a hot summer's day, washed over Harry, lulling him into a trance. His breath hitched, fingertips started to tingle, and goosebumps spread over his forearms and neck. That was the moment Harry realized that Draco was the future he had hoped for. He was incapable of looking away, too lost in the clear voice and and the what-ifs.

One moment, Draco was swaying his hips to the rhythm of the song, and in the next, he was seated on a swing, flying high above the heads of the audience.

Once, long ago, Harry had visited a circus on his cousin’s birthday. The performance on the swing reminded him a bit of the acrobats, although the air at the circus hadn’t been heavy with sinful, seductive promises of pleasure.

“I could arrange something,” panted Dean next to him. He had just come back, cheeks flushed and the collar of his shirt wrinkled. He was the director of the play that they wanted to produce. “You’ll be able to talk to him alone, Harry. You have to give your best! Seamus promised you would meet him!”

As if Draco had heard them, he landed in front of the small group of friends. He stepped from the swing, swaying his hips suggestively and crossed the distance to Harry. He leaned forward, index finger following Harry’s jawline. “I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

Harry was about to open his mouth to answer, but Draco turned around, telling the audience that he was too shy. Seconds later, Harry’s friends pushed him up and the siren took his hand, guiding him into the middle of the dance floor.

The crowd was cheering for him. The logical side of his brain stopped working, unable to comprehend the situation. His hands were on the narrow waist of the dancer in front of him, his back pressed against Harry’s chest. The hand on his nape left a burning sensation on his skin. Draco looked over his shoulder, a cheeky glimmer in his eyes, while he continued to sing. Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

Suddenly, his whole body was on fire. His eyes followed the pale neckline to the delicate shoulders. He wanted to place a kiss on the crook of his neck, wanted to touch the pale skin. Draco turned in his arms, hands resting on his chest now. Harry watched Draco look to the right, just to flick his face to left the next moment. His hips moved in a figure-eight.

Harry gasped, surprised as Draco gripped his forearms. He went down in a smooth split, one leg between Harry’s, one behind himself. Emerald eyes locked with grey. Harry couldn’t take his eyes away; he was enchanted. Maybe the twins had been right, and the dancer on the floor had magic in his blood.

With a swift motion, the blond dancer came back on his feet. Body pressed against body, heat rising. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but was pushed away. He already missed the feeling of Draco’s chest pressed against his own.

~ ★ ~

Harry was nervous, full of insecurities and yet a storm of passion was raging inside of him while he waited for Draco. A dancer guided him to Draco’s room for a _private_ conversation after the performance. Too overwhelmed to speak, Harry silently followed, leaving his cheering friends behind.

He was standing on the small balcony as the door swung open. Harry turned around, a greeting on his lips that got stuck in his throat. Gone was the diamond of Moulin Rouge. Instead, a young man was standing across the room. His appearance was as simple as any other commoner on the streets.

His long legs were wrapped in black linen trousers, his feet free from any shoes. Harry’s gaze wandered higher. A white buttoned shirt with long sleeves replaced the black corset now, collar bones still visible. Sternum upwards, the buttons were loose.

Harry caught himself being drawn closer to the man at the other end of the room. Suddenly, the blond siren, maybe Veela, seemed to be more real, more within his reach. He cleared his throat, fingers threading through his hair. Why was he here again?

He felt his hands getting sweaty under the sharp gaze of those stormy eyes. His mouth got dry and his mind went completely blank.

“Like what you see?” Draco tilted his head slightly to the right, a smug smile on his lips. He strutted closer, a lascivious sway of his hips underlining his natural confidence.

Harry cleared his throat, gaze raising above the blond head. “I am here to make you an offer.” Right, he was here to help his friends. They needed someone that supported their idea. Draco Malfoy, star and diamond of Moulin Rouge, was their best chance to persuade Albus Dumble to approve of their play.

“Oh, what is with you businessmen?” Draco chuckled low, fingertips ghosting over the back of Harry’s hand. He leant forward, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “How about we have some fun before work?”

The husky tone of Draco’s voice ran a shiver down his spine. His eyebrows knitted together, lips pressed into a thin white line. He had to keep his composure. He was the only chance of success for his new friends. This was not the moment for his wishes to come true. “I’d prefer to talk business. I am a writer.” He ducked away. One smooth turn later he was standing behind Draco, taking another step back. “Do you believe in love?”

A snort was audible. Draco turned around, one eyebrow raised. Arms crossed in front of his chest, lips curved into a disparaging smile. “You want to talk about _love_?”

Harry frowned slightly, looking around the room, desperately avoiding the big bed. He focused on the table - dark wood with golden flower ornaments. “About what else should we talk? Love is everything we need in this world.”

“Love’s just a game, pauvre garçon. It’s a fairytale that people like to hear to make themselves feel better.” Suddenly, Draco’s arm was snaked around Harry’s waist. He hadn’t paid enough attention to the dancer and didn’t see him coming. “Lust, on the other hand, un bel homme, is something real. An emotion that you can’t deny or ignore.”  

Harry looked up. Only then did he realize that Draco was a few inches taller than him. Love had been the light that had guided Harry through the darkness of his childhood. There was a faint memory of a smile from a red-headed woman, the feeling of a big warm hand patting his head. His parents… “No, you’re wrong. Love is the true meaning of life!” A wave of passion crashed over him, filling every cell of his body. His sun-kissed cheeks turned darker as his enthusiasm took over. He squirmed out of the grip around his waist. He turned on his heels in a full circle, arms stretched out. “Love is like oxygen! You need it to survive!”

Draco rolled his eyes. “My dear Duke, you can say that, because you’re not among us commoners. A man has to eat something. You can’t live from _love_.”

“Duke? I am not a Duke. I am just a simple man that believes in the joys of life.” Harry stepped closer, eyes lit up with passion. “You can’t tell me that you never wanted to feel love. Don’t you dream?” An irritated look passed over Draco’s beautiful face. Confusion shadowed the grey eyes.

“If you’re not the Duke, who are you then?” Draco’s smile disappeared in the blink of an eye. His gaze sharpened, lost any hint of softness.

“Harry Potter, an aspiring writer from London.” With a wide smile on his lips, he eyed Draco interested.

“ _Harry_ _Potter_. Well, Mr. _Potter_ , I fear there must have been a mistake. I was about to meet Duke Gilderoy Lockhart.”

The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. The way Draco popped the ‘P’ of his name, gave Harry the impression that he was seen as no more than a disgusting insect. Anger crept up within him. “Pardon? You got a problem with where I come from?”

"Pauvre paysan, you can’t afford to talk to me.” Draco stalked to his wardrobe. “If you don’t mind. Some of us have to work to do.” He turned his back on Harry, pulling the white shirt over his head. “Some of us can’t afford to believe in love. I’m a grown man that doesn’t believe in fairytales anymore, and neither should you.”

Harry frowned. Draco’s looks were wasted on a man like him. How could he let himself be fooled like that? Draco Malfoy was a heartless devil in the disguise of an angel. It crossed his mind to just leave without another word. However, the memory of the hope on the faces of his friends stopped him. “I feel sorry for you. You chose the life of a prisoner. You are a fool if you don’t give love a chance.”

Draco made a sharp turn back to Harry. With his eyes narrowed, he levelled him with an angry scowl. “I don’t need your _pity._ You call _me_ a fool?” A cold laugh filled the room, bitterness swayed in it. “Tell me, Potter. What is love? Convince me of its existence and I will fulfil you a wish. If I understood you right, you are here for business.”

“If I can make you believe in love, will you help my friends?” Harry quickly explained what the original reason for his visit was. Draco agreed to help his artistic friends to stage the play at the Moulin Rouge. If Harry succeeded, he would persuade Albus Dumble to agree to help them.

Draco decided to wear a silky dressing gown to cover himself up. He took a seat on the bed, inspecting Harry with a bored expression, the belt of his dark-green robe still open. His fingers played with a loose thread of his right sleeve, legs crossed. “I am waiting, Potter. Share your wisdom with me.” His voice now an annoyed snarl.

Harry didn’t know why he felt the need to observe the blond git so precisely. Nothing slipped his attention. The pale face showed a stone-cold expression – a mirror of boredom. He frowned slightly, why did he play with his sleeve? Why did his foot dangle?

“Who hurt you in the past? Who disappointed you?” Those words slipped out of his mouth, before his mind could grasp the meaning behind it. For some reason, he didn’t want to accept that the man on the bed wasn’t capable of love.

“How about minding your own business, Potter?”

Harry stepped closer, suddenly feeling braver than before. A light breeze swept through the room, seemingly urging him to get closer. “Scared, Draco?” He was only a few centimeters away, Draco’s dangling foot brushing over his shin.

Draco’s body went still. He looked up. Now that Harry had a closer look, the colour of those expressive eyes appeared to be liquid silver instead of stormy grey. He could see himself getting lost in them for hours. His lips parted, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“You wish, Potter.” His lips curved into a smirk, a dangerous glim in his eyes.

Suddenly Harry watched Draco reaching for the collar of his shirt, firmly pulling him down. Lips collided. A cool hand on his nape and a wet tongue between his lips made him gasp in surprise. Eyes still locked. Slowly, he closed his eyes, only sensations flooding his mind. The faint scent of sandalwood and daisies mixed with musk and sweat filled his nose.

Harry gave up his control, willingly handing the lead over to Draco. He sank to his knees, mouths not parting, hands slipping under the silky fabric of the dressing gown. As soon as his fingertips brushed over the smooth skin on Draco’s sides, he sighed into the kiss.

Harry was about to whine as Draco’s tongue slipped out, but instead he groaned at the sensation of teeth gently scraping over his lower lip. The slender legs were no longer crossed, instead they caged Harry.

A crack filled the room. Harry jumped on his feet, hand darting to the hidden pocket inside of his jacket, ready to protect the man with him.

“Harry!”

Both Draco and Harry looked to the balcony. Harry frowned at the sight of Fred’s head dangling from above. “What are you doing?”

“You have to go! Quick! The Duke is on his way! George and I will help you to get on the roof. Now come! Hey, Malfoy, stunning performance tonight!”

Harry looked back to Draco, who had a sour expression on his face. He stood up and put his hands on Harry’s shoulders, guiding him to the balcony. “But we haven’t talked about the play yet!”

Draco leant forward, lips brushing over his ear, chest pressed against Harry’s back. “Don’t forget our deal, Potter. I am waiting for you tomorrow after the end of the show. Cela est bien trop intéressant pour être interrompu maintenant. Don’t worry. We are not finished yet, mon amour.” His voice, nothing more than a husky whisper, was the cause of goosebumps all over Harry’s body.

Not able to speak, he just nodded and stepped onto the balcony. With a confident smile, he turned to the blond man. “I will make you believe, Draco.” And then George, together with Fred and Dean, pulled him onto the roof.

One last time, Harry looked down to the balcony before he followed his friends. The image of Draco, framed by the milky moonlight, would stick with him for years. The confident posture, the glowing hair and the fierce silver eyes.

 

**Author's Note:**

>  _Love is like oxygen!_ is a quote from the movie.
> 
>  **Translation of Draco's French:**  
>  _pauvre garçon - poor boy_  
>  _un bel homme - handsome man_  
>  _Pauvre paysan - silly poor man_  
>  _Cela est bien trop intéressant pour être interrompu maintenant. - This far too interesting to stop here._  
>  _mon amour - my love_
> 
> I put a lot of thought into the scent of Draco (although it was just a tiny moment), so if people are interested, here you are: https://www.flowermeaning.com/daisy-flower-meaning/ 
> 
> This was meant to be longer, but, unfortunately, I had to cut the plot down to this little thing. However, chances are high that I will continue this in the future, because I am not finished telling their story. 
> 
> However, I hope this sparked joy! ♥
> 
> ***
> 
> This work is part of "Lights, Camera, Drarry" (LCDrarry), a film-, TV- and theatre-inspired Drarry fest.  
>  Creations are posted anonymously during the posting period. The creators will be revealed on [tumblr](http://lcdrarry.tumblr.com) and [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LCDrarry2019/works) on 15 June.


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